Sapphire Eyes
by Mr. Toasty
Summary: What happens when someone notices Kenny's constant mortality? Tweek x Kenny, 'cause it's not done enough. Rated T for boys kissing and teen drinking in later chapters. Reviews appreciated!
1. Good Morning, South Park

Welcome to the doomy hellish depths of my mind! I honestly have no idea where this story is going, but I like how it's going right now, and want to know what y'all think! Please, read and review!

I don't own any copyrights here. No matter how much I wish I did, Matt and trey beat me to it. It's all their creation. Though, I don't think they want it anymore, seeing what fans have made their creations do…

I remember childhood. I remember everything. I remember the fourth grade with striking clarity. I remember all of our crazy antics.

I remember playing Superheroes with my friends. They all made up the stupidest superpowers. Kyle, AKA, "The Human Kite," could fly. Cartman, "The Coon," had the powers of supreme assholery. Stan carried around a bunch of his dad's tools. Token was made of plastic Tupperware. Clyde was a giant mosquito with a vuvuzela on his nose.

I had the only cool superpower. I, "Mysterion," was immortal. I _am_ immortal. None of my friends believed it. They still don't. It's true, though. Over the course of our little Superheroes game, I died at least three times. Each time, I woke up in my own bed the next morning, in my old orange parka, completely unscathed. Each time, no one remembered my death. It totally sucked _ass_.

But that was years ago. I've given up on making my friends understand. I don't care anymore.

In fact, I died last night. I was going for a midnight walk during a random fit of insomnia, and, next thing I knew, a semi truck was hurdling down Main Street, drugging a bloody mass of Kenny-flesh behind it.

This morning, I woke up to my mom yelling at my dad. No breakfast – I was gonna be late. That was my dad's excuse, anyway. He just gave me an apple in a bag and said it was my lunch. The real reason I couldn't eat? We're freaking _poor. _Seriously. No breakfast, Kenny, if you don't want the house to be repossessed. Shut the fuck up, Dad, if you wanna wake up tomorrow.

I dashed to the bus stop, a fifty-pound bag slung over my shoulder, and managed to jump onto the bus's front steps before the doors closed. I dropped down behind the Broflovskis, ruffling Ike's hair as I did so. He cringed, Kyle laughed. "Welcome to high school, our resident Canadian Genius!" My laughs were muffled by the plastic-fur-lined hood of my parka pulled tight around my face.

Kyle draped an arm around his brother's shoulders, pinching his cheek with a gloved hand. Shrinking towards the wall of the bus and away from Kyle, Ike pushed his brother away, "Quit it, you guys!"

"Aaw, c'mon, Ike!" Stan was leaning over the back of his seat to join in the fun. Cartman sat beside him, eating Cheesy Poofs. "Stop being such a buzz-kill!"

The following conversation went kind of like this:

"I told you, Stan! Jews can't be fun. They just kill any fun you try to have." Cartman.

"Shut up, fatass!" Ike.

"Stop belittling my people, Cartman!" Kyle.

"Ay! I'm not fat! I'm big-boned!" Cartman.

I chimed in with, "I was big-boned last night with your mom, Cartman," at which point everyone, excluding Cartman, broke out into roaring laughter. Yeah, I'm kind of the shit.

That's when everything changed. That's when my constant mortality became something other than a normal, day-to-day occurrence. It brought _him_ into my life. I've known him for years, but, if it wasn't for this curse of mine, I would never have really _known_ him.

While the others were all laughing at the flustered Cartman, my eyes wandered, scanning the bus. These were the people I'd seen every day of my life. Butters. Token. Wendy. BeBe. All the normal faces I've seen every day of my life.

Tweek, as usual, was curled up on his seat, twitching, a travel mug clutched in his hand. His eyes caught mine. I had trouble looking away. I thought to myself, _Kenny, you fag, stop noticing the way his brilliant blue eyes sparkle… _

Everyone else mistook it for a normal paranoid outburst when Tweek clutched his legs to his chest, twitching and shaking violently, shouting, "Jesus! It's a ghost! Holy shit! They're gonna get me! Oh, Jesus! Ack!" The boy ducked his head and began tugging at his golden locks, his travel mug falling to the floor of the bus.

Shouts of, "Shut up!" and "Calm down!" were thrown Tweek's way.

I stared at the shaking, crumpled figure. He had called me a ghost. What did that even mean? Was he just being regular old paranoid Tweek, or was there something to it?

I resolved to ask him about it – later, when he calmed down.

I went back to taunting Cartman about his mom being a total whore.


	2. Who Put Sand up Your Vagina?

Wow, I can't believe people actually _like_ this...  
But apparently they do, so here's chapter two! That rhymed! I need a life!  
copyright shit: I no own South Park.  
Also, there _are_ some hate words in this. I just wanna let you know that that's not how I think, that's just how the kids in South Park talk.

* * *

I cornered Tweek Tweak before lunch, in the bathroom. I followed him in and waited for him to come out of the stall. When he saw me, he freaked out again. I reminded him to wash his hands before ripping out his hair.

After he had washed his hands, they immediately became entangled in his hair, "Shit, man! Didn't you die yesterday? I saw you get hit by a truck! How are you here? You're dead, man! Jesus Christ! I'm going nuts!"

Blinking rapidly, I mumbled, my words muffled by my parka's hood, "You remember me dying?" I pulled my hood away from my face, "no one _ever_ remembers me dying!"

"What the hell are you talking about? You're freaking me out, dude!"

I grabbed Tweek's shoulders and shook him, staring into his eyes, "You saw me die last night. I got hit by a semi truck, right? And it was horrible and bloody and traumatizing, right? I _died_. You saw me _die_, and you remember it!"

I could see that Tweek was seriously freaked out. I moved my hands off his shoulders, down his arms, and held onto his elbows. I squeezed his arms comfortingly. He seemed to calm down a bit. Closing his eyes, Tweek took a couple of deep breathes, "Y-you died… It was… it was terrible! You were splattered all over the road! The truck didn't even stop! And now… you're totally fine! How?"

Sighing, I shook my head, "I dunno. This has happened a lot, though. Ever since I can remember, I die, like, every once in a while. I get killed. Then, I just… wake up. But, no one ever remembers me dying." My hands traveled down his arms of their own will, taking hold of his hands.

Tweek had completely stopped shaking for the first time since I've met him. When he spoke, his voice was timid and unsteady, "How many times have you… have you… died?" On the last word, his voice got about an octave higher.

I shrugged, allowing my hands to drop to my sides, "I stopped counting when I was, like, eight." I pulled my hood back on, "C'mon, I don't wanna miss lunch."

"Anyone got any extra food? I'm fucking hungry!" I sat down next to Kyle, Ike, Stan, and Cartman, at our usual table, and gestured for Tweek to sit next to me.

"I've got some matza I really don't want… It's unsalted. You don't care, right?" I took the bland cracker from Kyle and munched on it gratefully, "Where were you guys?"

Through a mouthful of matza, I mumbled, "bathroom," spraying crumbs across the table.

Cartman glanced between me and Kyle, and dropped his head into the palm of his hand, "This is just too easy, you guys."

Ike rolled his eyes, "We get it, fatass. Kyle's a Jew, Kenny's poor. Get over it."

"Ike, you're Jewish too," Stan pinched the bridge of his nose; "you're being racist against yourself."

Ike leaned back and stretched his arms behind his head, "Yeah, but I'm adopted, so it doesn't really count."

"Cartman!" Kyle yelled across the table, "Stop ruining my brother with all your stupid bigoted shit about Jewish people!"

I receded from the impending argument and turned to face Tweek, who was stressing out in the new social situation. I smiled, reassuringly, "Relax, man. You probably know these guys better than you know me." I raised a gloved hand and rested it on his quivering arm. I cocked my head, still smiling. He relaxed some.

For the second time that day I found myself getting lost in Tweek Tweak's brilliant blue eyes. His breathing slowed to a steady pace and the corners of his mouth crept into something like a smile.

"Ain't that right, Kenny?" I heard the fatass's obnoxious call, his redneck hick accent twisting the 'e' in my name to sound more like a 'y.' I ignored him, not wanting to look away from Tweek's sparkling sapphire eyes. "Ay, ay, Kenny?"

Reluctantly, I tore my gaze from Tweek, allowing my hand to drop to my side, "Yeah, sure, whatever, fatass."

Cartman raised an eyebrow, his fat face contorted with confusion, "Who put sand up your vagina?"

I yawned, stretching. I could feel my face flushing and tried to silently explain it away with tiredness or overheat. I flung a "your mom" joke Cartman's way, feigning laughter at his flustered response.


	3. Hypothermia's a Bitch

I have finally figured out how this website works! I feel so accomplished...  
Thank you, people who have read this story and liked it or reviewed it... you're my new best friends now, and I shall stalk you accordingly.  
Hehe... just kidding... maybe...  
Anywho, here's chapter three. Oh my God, he/she/it/they/you killed Kenny! You bastard(s)! (I be funny, yes?)

* * *

All throughout lunch, something in the back of my head, in the back of my throat, in the core of my chest, kept telling me to turn around, to shut out my dysfunctional friends, and to focus all my attention on the strange, quivering blonde boy beside me. Whatever it was, my conscious mind worked hard to shut it out, to shut it up, to punch it in the face, drag it out back, and set it on fire.

After school I had to get away. I left my friends at the bus stop and made my way to Stark's Pond, where I occupied a bench to watch the sun play off the frozen surface of the pond. I felt like such a chick, just sitting there and _thinking_. Thinking about nothing in particular. Thinking about whatever popped into my head.

One name. One name kept popping into my head. One name and one pair of sparkling blue eyes. _Goddamnit, Kenny! Get him out of your head!_

Light glinted off the thin layer of ice coating the pond, providing a misty view of the water beneath. _When was the last time I drowned to death?_ I considered walking out into the middle of the pond, waiting for the ice to crack beneath me and for the frigid water to swallow me into its depths, then waking up tomorrow, warm and dry, in my bed. I sighed.

That's how it goes. Live. Die. Wake up. Lather, rinse, repeat. Go on your day as normal. Pretend nothing happened. No one will believe you, anyway.

I sunk back into the old, scraggly fur of my parka, suddenly exhausted. Sleep hit me like a mallet to the head.

When I woke up it had snowed. It had snowed a lot. Snow in South Park has always been as common douche bags in Jersey. Inevitable.

Small piles of snow had gathered on every exposed surface of my body. I was fucking cold. I was slumped back on a bench, still facing the water, like I was before I fell asleep.

"You guys, this is _seriously_! It looks like Kenny came out here to _think_! We need a Playboy in here, stat!" A rummaging sound was heard and a Playboy magazine, probably stolen from my backpack, was dangled in front of my face, "Look, Kenny! Titties!"

I groaned, swatting away the magazine, "Get out of my face, fatass." I wasn't feeling creative. And I was completely freezing. I stood and brushed snow off of myself. Kyle and Stan were there, too, looks of genuine concern on their faces.

"Dude, Kenny, Cartman's right. You've been acting really weird today." I didn't really care about what Stan and Kyle were saying. I was more concerned about how I was gonna die that day.

My choices were between a slow and painful death in a hospital bed from hypothermia, or a quick, easy drowning. I could already feel half my face numbing, and limbs falling asleep from the cold. But, underneath that, there was that small tingle of warmth forming. The small tingle of warmth that warned of other, more fatal symptoms.

Yawning, I stretched, and glanced between Stan and Kyle, who were both trying to voice their concern for me in the most emotionally distant, masculine way possible. "Kyle," I interrupted him mid-sentence, "take my backpack home, will ya?"

Head cocked; eyebrows raised. Confusion. Concern. I knew what he was gonna say a second before he said it, "What? Why? Kenny, you're kinda freaking me out right now."

I was already walking toward the pond, onto thin ice that barely supported my weight, "Just take my bag home. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

I heard the ice creak beneath me, saw hairline cracks spider-webbing from each spot where my feet connected. Slowly, I reached the center of the bond, where the depth was at least twice my height. Perfect for drowning quickly and _almost_ painlessly.

I waved at the other three who were still standing at the banks of Stark's Pond, "See y'all tomorrow! Take my bag home for me!" The ice creaked loudly beneath me, and gave into my weight, submerging me quickly into the pond's icy depths.

"Oh my God, Kenny!" Stan shouted.

"You crazy bastard!" Kyle chimed in.

Choking and sputtering, I inhaled the icy water, feeling it fill my lungs with a freezing pain. Then… warmth. My muscles, previously lock from the cold, began to relax. A warmth that started in my core spread to the very tips of my fingers.


	4. Harbucks Coffee

I finally understand how this website works! Gah! I'm so happy!  
Thank you so much, everyone who reviewed this story or added it to your favorites. Again, you guys rock, and your positive reviews are a _total_ confidence boost! Please, read and review, and I hope you like this next installment!  
I can't write an effective stopping point for my life!

* * *

"Kenny! Wake up, you're gonna be late for school!" My mom's usual drunken-sounding slurred southern drawl called.

Groaning, I sat up, surveying my surroundings. I was back in my room. My backpack was beside my bed. My parka was flung carelessly on the floor, as if I had put it there myself. Everything was undeniably normal.

"Hey, Kenny," The others called as I approached the bus stop.

"Hey," I chanted back.

As I clambered onto the bus with the other guys, a now-familiar, high-pitched, caffeine-driven voice exclaimed, "Holy shit, dude!"

My friends watched suspiciously as I turned to sit next to the quivering blonde. I laced my fingers behind my head and leaned back, crossing my ankles, "Hey, Tweekers."

Tweek was clutching a travel mug to his chest as if holding on for dear life. He stared up at me with big, blue doe eyes, "Dude! You-you drowned yourself! You were on the news and _everything_!" He took a large gulp of coffee out of his mug, eyes still locked on me, "W-why'd you d-do it?"

I dropped my relaxed posture and turned to face Tweek. He was still staring at me, those sapphire eyes seemingly boring holes into my soul. Wow, that was deep. I pushed my hood off of my face, "Hypothermia's a bitch." His eyes begged further explanation. I shrugged, "I fell asleep by Stark's Pond and _really_ didn't wanna die slowly and painfully from hypothermia. I figured a quick drowning would be _way_ less painful."

"A-and no one remembers?" Somehow, his eyes were wider than before, and seemed to sparkle even more.

I nodded, "Just like always."

But, unlike always, I had someone to talk to. I know, it sounds totally emo, but, I never had anyone who understood me before. And this weird, nervous, twitchy, caffeine-addicted psycho kid actually _got_ me. He knew something about me that no one else did. My _God_, I sound like a freaking emo kid!

But that's how it is. I mean, it's hard _not_ to sound emo when you die so often and nobody ever even notices. Great, now I sound like a whiny teenaged girl. I'm a whiny emo girl.

Suddenly, I turned to the twitchy blonde beside me, "Hey, you wanna hang out or something tomorrow?" I have no idea why I did that, it just popped into my head. Since when have I been known to think before acting, anyway?

He looked slightly taken aback, "I-I have to work tomorrow."

The bus pulled up in front of the school, "Harbucks, right?" He nodded. I stood up and swung my bag over my shoulder, getting ready to get off the bus, "Maybe I'll come see you there?"

He nodded, smiling.

Had I ever seen him smile before?

I managed to get through a day without dying. It's been getting easier. I haven't died every day since I was, like, eight. Even then, I managed to stay alive two or three days in a row every so often.

The other guys still thought I was acting weird. I managed to convince them otherwise by spending lunch trying to get my Playboy back from Cartman, making crude jokes about boning Cartman's mom, and by begging for food from pretty much everyone… and tooling on Cartman for being a fatass.

Typical Kenny.

That day came and went pretty uneventfully. Finally, it was Saturday, and I was free to do whatever the fuck I wanted. And, for some reason, that included going to Harbucks coffee, to pay a visit to my favorite twitchy freak.

The guys were right, I was acting weird.

But, I kinda liked it.

I walked down the street, hands in pockets, my head covered by my hood, eyes down. I knew the route pretty much by heart, having lived in South Park all my life. For some reason I couldn't keep the traces of a smile off my face. I pushed open the door to Harbucks and entered the warm café.

Harbucks was set up kind of like a bar. The front counter was lined with stools that were fixed to the floor, had low backs, and were able to rotate in place a little before bouncing back to their original positions. The rest of the coffee shop was lined with round tables, topped with plastic slabs printed to look like intricate mosaics, and surrounded by chairs with similar designs.

Tweek was standing behind the counter, wearing a ridiculous visor with the Harbucks logo printed on it, along with a bright green shirt and neat khaki pants. He took a customer's order and went to get a muffin out of a pastry display case.

I stifled a laugh. It was the most ridiculous uniform I'd ever seen. And yet, he looked kind of… cute. The green polo somehow brought out his eyes, making them shine even more than they usually did, and his hair somehow looked blonder than before.

_Did I really just think that?_ No. Definitely not. _I couldn't have… could I?_

I sat down on one of the low-backed swivel stools and waited for Tweek to take his attention away from his current customer. When he saw me he smiled. I smiled back.

"Hey, Tweek."

"H-hey, Kenny," His smile was nervous and twitchy, as always, though I could see him trying to keep his twitching under control. Or maybe I was just imagining it.

We talked. We talked for what felt like half an hour, but what must have been hours. We talked about anything and everything. He talked about his cousin being in town, and how it was stressing him out. I talked about how he shouldn't stress so much. One of us said something funny, and we laughed. We avoided the hard subjects, and just laughed. We laughed at the other guys, and we laughed at ourselves. Occasionally, Tweek would have to leave me and serve a customer. And I had to order a coffee every so often, so I wouldn't be kicked out for loitering. It was a slow day, so we were able to talk pretty much uninterrupted.

Eventually, a tall, gangly girl with long, blonde hair, wearing a Harbucks uniform, came out of the back room and told Tweek that he was "officially relieved of his post." She then looked me up and down with eyes incredibly similar to Tweek's before adding, "Cool parka." She nibbled on one of the two silver hoops in her bottom lip before turning to a customer and greeting him with a friendly smile and a high-pitched welcome.

I looked around, taking my eyes off Tweek for what felt like the first time all day. It was getting dark outside. The clock on the wall told me that it was five. I blinked a couple times, unsure if I was reading it right. Yup, five o'clock. _Jeez, did I really spend all day here_?

Tweek and I left Harbucks and we kept talking. We kept talking all the way to Tweek's house, where he invited me in a pointed me to the couch, then ran upstairs to change out of his Harbucks uniform.


	5. Boytoy

OK, every time I post a new chapter, I get an e-mail saying that I posted a new chapter. Like, what the fuck, FanFiction?  
Ooooh, they're alone in Tweek's house! What's gonna happen? You know you wanna know! So read, my friends, READ!  
Uhhh yeah, Tweek's cousin "loosely" based off of me. She was gonna be a bigger part but... she isn't. yeah.  
ENJOY!

* * *

_No wonder this kid is so messed up_. The News was on, and a reporter with a mustache was talking about the recent rise in local kidnappings. He spat out some terrifying statistics that made it sound like everyone and their grandma was a kidnapper. I threw my parka onto the coat rack and dropped onto the couch.

Tweek came downstairs, dressed in his usual jeans and green button-down, which was, as always, buttoned wrong. I rolled my eyes, "Your shirt."

He looked down at himself, nervous, "What about my shirt?"

"It's buttoned all wrong," I laughed, then, without thinking, got up and started unbuttoning his shirt. His face flushed bright red, as I'm sure mine did. I quickly re-buttoned his shirt and stepped back, stifling a laugh at the terrified expression on his beet-red face.

"Um, ngh, thanks?" He said, his voice dripping with confusion.

I couldn't help it. I laughed. The look on his face was just too funny. And he laughed with me. Still laughing, we sat down on the couch and watched TV for a while. When the Park County News ended some crime show came on.

The show started with two girls making out in an old, abandoned barn, at which I pumped a fist in the air and exclaimed "Woohoo!" Tweek's eyes grew wide, as if he had never seen a girl-on-girl scene before. The two broke apart abruptly and Tweek hid his head behind his arms when a raccoon ran across the screen with a human femur in its mouth.

I glanced up from the TV to see Tweek curled up on the couch, his knees clutched to his chest and his arms hiding his face. He was shaking profusely. I looked back to the TV, which was displaying a graphic image of a decomposing corpse, flanked by FBI agents.

Tweek looked up when he heard me switch off the TV. "You ok, man?"

He nodded, "Ngh, yeah." Silence. Then, quietly, "What's it like to die?"

At first, I didn't think that I'd really heard him, he had spoken so quietly. I looked over to find the quivering boy's big, blue doe-eyes fixed on me.

I stared back at him just as intently as he stared at me, "It depends… It hurts, I guess. But, it really depends on how I die. I was shot in the head once – that didn't hurt too badly." I closed my eyes for a second, then looked back at Tweek, "It's getting to Hell that's the painful part."

"H-hell?" His eyes grew wider, "That's real?"

"Yeah," I nodded, "It's not that bad, though. Satan's a total pussy." I chuckled to myself and we both started to laugh again. _Jesus Christ_,_ that boy has gorgeous eyes. Wait, what_?_ Ok, what the _fuck,_ subconscious?_

Tweek's voice shook me from my thoughts, "H-how are you so calm about that?"

I cocked my head, "About what?"

"Dying. _Hell_."

"I guess… I guess I'm just used to it." I turned my body to face Tweek, my legs folded under myself and my hands folded in my lap.

Eyes still locked on mine, Tweek leaned forward, hugging his knees to his chest. His eyes dropped to his feet, and he shook even more violently. In a high, timid voice, he muttered, "How many times have y-you k-killed yourself?" His eyes found mine again, timidly trying to hold a steady gaze.

"I…" I closed my eyes, thinking, and counted on my fingers. When my eyes opened I looked down at my hand, "five." His face begged further explanation. "Once to prove a point, another to save the other guys, the third out of exasperation… those were all within days of each other," I glanced up at the ceiling, "The fourth was a couple years ago… I was really depressed…" I trailed off, my gaze falling past Tweek and resting on the couch, my head bowed, "The fifth – "

"Thursday," he answered. I nodded. I could feel his eyes still on me, trying to catch my gaze. I kept my eyes down. His hand found mine, and, shaking profusely, grasped it. I could feel his pulse rushing and his hand shaking. Smiling, my eyes still down, I rubbed my thumb over his knuckles and squeezed his hand.

Our eyes met again, "Thanks, Tweek," his smile mirrored mine, "You're… you're a really great guy…"

His smile widened and I found myself leaning forward, toward the quaking blonde boy, drawn to his shining blue eyes like a moth to a flame. His hands moved to my shoulders and I could hear his heart beating. His lips were inches from mine.

My hands found his waist and I pushed myself forward, clearing the space between us and pressing my lips against his. He lay back on the couch and kissed me back eagerly, his arms wrapping around my neck. I lay on top of him, my arms wrapped around his waist and my hands traveling down his back.

"So, Tweek, who's your boytoy?"

* * *

Read and review! I beg of you!  
Also... I dunno what the fuck should happen next... Help?


	6. Major MoodKill

Ok, short chapter is short. Sorry! I was kinda killing myself to get this chapter out quickly and uh... I suck xP  
Anywho, it's Pride Month! Yayy! It's also _really fucking cold outside!_ I hate the cold. Hate it hate it hate it. I swear, this blurb is gonna end up being longer than the chapter. How many of you actually read this, anyway?  
Sooo Tweek and Kenny belong to Matt and Trey... Kendra is my creation. She's weird. And, like, my personality + piercings + a super-dysfunctional family.

* * *

"Kendra!" Tweek shrieked, flinging me off of him.

The girl who had taken Tweek's shift at Harbucks was standing over the couch, smirking. When she saw me, her back straightened and her face perked up, "Oh! It's cool parka kid! Tweek, you stud! Hey, he's _really_ cute! And, I _told_ you, I go by 'Kenny,' now. Not 'Kendra.' 'Kendra' is too girly."

Tweek sprang to his feet and stared daggers at the 'Kenny' girl. "I'm not gay!" He exclaimed.

"Neither am I!" I added, pushing myself into a sitting position on the couch.

Kendra rolled her eyes, "Yeah, right, and neither am I." She turned to me and stuck out a hand, "Hi. I'm Kenny: Tweek's cousin."

I shook her hand, "Hi, I'm Kenny."

"Kendra!" Tweek squeaked.

"Relax, Tweekers! I honestly _do not care_. And, really, I won't tell anyone if you don't want anyone to know." She jabbed her thumbs in the direction of the stairs, "I'm gonna go… you two have fun, now! It's Pride Month!" And with that, she turned and trotted up the stairs.

Tweek dropped onto the couch, groaning and rubbing his eyes, "That was my cousin."

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"She's not _that _bad, she's just kinda… eccentri–"

"Not about your cousin," I chuckled, "about… you know…"

"Oh…"

"I'm _not_ gay… or at least, I don't think so… I don't even know _why_ –" And at that, Tweek's lips were on mine, and he was pulling me down to lay on top of him again. The fingers of my right hand became entangled in his messy blonde hair as my left hand traveled down his side to rest on his hip. He threw his arms around my neck and pressed his quivering fingers into my shoulders.

Then, he opened his mouth, and, I swear, the kid _tasted_ like coffee. My tongue immediately invaded his mouth and ran over each unnaturally smooth, straight, coffee-flavored tooth.

I broke away and held my face inches above Tweek's. "Ok… maybe I could be gay…" I stared into those intense, shining sapphire eyes. He stared back at me, his gaze unwavering.

"Why were you depressed?"

That was the last thing I was expecting to hear, "Huh?"

"Y-you said that you killed yourself once because you were depressed…"

I groaned, "Dude. Major. Mood-kill."

* * *

Sooo... Review, please! Aaaaaaaand... Um, I'm supposed to say something nice here, right? Like, how I totally love your support, yadda yadda...  
I'm a fat lesbian! No, I'm not. That's an inside joke. See? Now you feel left out.  
I'm actually a slightly overweight bisexual. Yup.  
REVIEWS PLEAASE!


	7. The Gnomes!

Short chapter is... not as short as the last one. Goody.  
I'm glad I got his one done quick-ish-ly. School got out early 'cause of the snow, so I was in a kinda South Park - y mood... I hate snow. So. Much.  
Soooooo here's the next chapter! It somehow goes from a suicide talk to gnomes... this is a little insight into how my brain works. Meaning that it doesn't, but people find it entertaining, anyway.  
Also! Your reviews are the bane of my existence! They're what makes fanfic-writing so fun! So... The novelty would be _totally_ lost if you stopped reviewing... so REVIEW! PLEEEASE!

* * *

"I was sick of dying." We were sitting upright on the couch, again. Tweek's quaking hands were on mine and he was looking at me with those stunning, penetrating eyes.

His eyes narrowed and Tweek cocked his head, "You were sick of dying, so you killed yourself?"

I shrugged, "I was sick of dying… sick of my family… I know, it's stupid…"

A loud "thump" sounded from upstairs, followed by a call of, "_Sterculus__!_ I'm OK!"

Tweek jumped nearly out of his skin, then groaned, looking up at the ceiling. "You're lucky," I mumbled. He looked at me, quizzically, "Sure, your family's embarrassing, and your cousin breaks things, but… you're just… you're lucky."

Tweek sat closer to me, half in my lap, staring up at me with a reassuring glint in his eyes. I could tell he didn't know what to say, but he still got what I was saying.

I think we fell asleep after that, because I guess it was late – I had lost track of time. I woke up to find Tweek in my arms and his cousin trying to shake us awake, shouting, "Dude! Tweek, your parents are home!"

"Ack!" Tweek jumped to his feet, "You're not supposed to be here!" He faced me, frantically pulling at his own hair.

"Relax!" Kendra exclaimed, pressing a mug of coffee into Tweek's hands, "Here. Calm down, Tweek. Find your center." She pushed Tweek down onto the couch so he sat still. "You," she said, turning to me, "I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be here at three-thirty in the morning–"

"Three-thirty?" Tweek shouted, jumping to his feet, "The gnomes!" And with that, Tweek took off, and, stumbling over himself, tore up the stairs.

Kendra shook her head, "Goddamnit, Tweek," Again, she turned to me, "He does that every _fucking_ day. I had to get earplugs. Anyway, Tweek's not supposed to have people over this late, so, either get out or hide."

I nodded, "Thanks, Kenny." I followed Tweek up the stairs.

I heard the TV downstairs turn on, and Kendra's bright, high-pitched exclamation of, "Hey, Uncle Rich! Aunt Cindy!"

"Agh! They took them again!" Tweek shouted. I followed his voice to his room, where he was frantically searching through his underwear drawer.

"Oh, um, that's my friend's parka... I, uh, I borrowed it, 'cause, ya'know, it's pretty cold outside."

"Tweek? You OK?" I asked, sidling up beside Tweek.

"Oh, he's asleep. Don't wake him up, though! He'd _never_ get back to sleep, what with his ADD, and all." Hurried steps were heard coming up the stairs, "You're welcome!" Kendra squeaked before slamming shut the door to Tweek's room.

Tweek flinched, "The gnomes! They got m-my underpants! Jesus, Christ! They were in my house, man!" I put a comforting hand on the shorter boy's shoulder.

"Calm down, man. This much stress can't be healthy for you," I moved my hand down to his waist out of instinct. He leaned into me, still shaking softly.

"The gnomes… they're gonna get me! They're after my blood! Ack! Blood!" Tweek twitched and spasmed, clinging to my shirt.

"No one's going to get you, Tweek," I ran a hand through the twitching blonde's hectic hair, "The gnomes just want your underpants. Remember? Stealing underpants is a big business."

He continued to shiver, clinging to my shirt as if holding on for dear life, "I-I can't take this kind of pressure, man!"

"Shhh," I cooed, "There's no pressure on you. Relax." I hugged Tweek's shivering body to me and kissed the top of his head.

"Ngh, the gnomes…" He threw his arms around my neck, "Don't let the gnomes get me," he pleaded.

"I won't, Tweek," I kissed the quivering boy's cheek; "I won't let them get you."

* * *

Click that big, shiny review button down there and tell me what you thought!


	8. Coffee and Fluff

Wow. Two chapters in two days. I need a life.  
The little episode with Kenny and his devious smile is based off of a real situation involving me, my ex (when we were dating), and her friend Cris. I was Kenny. It was fun.  
SOOOOOO ENJOY!

* * *

Tweek was sleeping. Soundly, even. Every so often he would shiver, mumbling some conspiracy theory or another, but all-in-all, he was sleeping soundly and deeply.

After his little breakdown about the gnomes, I laid with Tweek in his bed, holding him until he fell asleep.

It was early. Like, really early. The sky outside was painted with the orange and pink of a sunrise. How poetic. I lay beside Tweek, an arm draped protectively over his shoulder, and just kinda watched him sleep. It sounds a little creepy, but that kid is really adorable when he sleeps. I gave him a quick peck on the lips, just 'cause, well, he was too adorable to _not_ kiss.

"Ngh, Kenny?" Tweek's eyes opened slowly. When he saw me, his eyes grew wider, "Kenny?" He looked at me for a moment, biting his lip, "I-I thought I dreamt last night. I was afraid that I'd wake up and everything would be back to normal." His voice was low and groggy, and the steadiest I'd ever heard him speak with.

I brushed a stray lock of hair away from Tweek's face, "When is anything ever normal in South Park?" I leaned forward and kissed him softly, and Tweek eagerly kissed back.

"Dude, aren't your parents going to be wondering where you are?" Tweek broke away from the kiss, suddenly nervous.

We both sat up. I laughed, "I doubt they noticed I'm gone."

He stared at me, his eyes wide, "Why wouldn't they?"

"Why would they?"

Tweek cocked his head and furrowed his brows, his eyes widening into a genuine look of pity. His thin, narrow shoulders slumped forward, "Your parents really wouldn't notice you gone?" I nodded. He threw his arms around my shoulders and embraced me tightly.

"Thanks, Tweek," I said, running a hand through his hair as he nuzzled his face into my neck.

He pulled back, his head in his hands, "Ngh, coffee…" He groaned.

"Did you ever think that maybe you shouldn't drink so much coffee?"

"No," he groaned, dragging himself out of bed and towards the door of his room. I followed him downstairs, through the empty house, and towards the kitchen.

A too-cheery voice called, "Heya, lovebirds!" as Tweek and I entered the kitchen. Tweek groaned and dragged himself over to the counter, where a full pot of coffee was waiting for him. Kendra was curled up on a chair in front of the kitchen table, holding a cup of coffee in front of her face. "I love you, coffee," she said, grinning at the mug in her hand before taking a sip.

Tweek dropped into the chair beside her, taking a large gulp of his own cup of coffee. "Where are my parents?"

"They decided that South Park needs its six A.M. cup of coffee, so they went to open up the shop early. _So_," Kendra said, surveying me and Tweek with steely blue eyes, "how was your night?" Mischief was heavy in her voice and her eyes darted between me and Tweek.

"Huh?" Tweek's head shot around and he stared, wide-eyed, at Kendra.

I dropped down into the seat beside Tweek and draped an arm around his shoulder, grinning. Kendra's eyes widened, "_That_ is one devious smile. Oh, um, for future reference, the walls in this house are _really _thin."

"_Kendra_!" Tweek squeaked, his eyes wide and his face beat red.

Giggling, Kendra stood up and walked out of the kitchen, coffee in hand. Tweek watched her skip out of the room, a mortified look etched on his face, "I don't understand her," he squeaked, "That girl's freaking nuts!"

I laughed, shaking my head, "She's not that bad. Haven't we already had this conversation?" We both shrugged. I leaned forward for another coffee-flavored kiss.

"Ngh, Kenny?"

"Yeah?"

"D-do you like me?" Tweek's shimmering blue eyes grew wide.

I paused for a second, "Yeah. Yeah, I do, Tweek."

A voice from the other room squeaked, "So fucking adorable!"

"_Kendra_!"

I kissed Tweek again, which seemed to calm him down some. "I should probably go," I mumbled. Tweek nodded, and walked me to the door. I pulled on my parka and pecked him on the lips again.

As soon as Tweek and I said our goodbyes and the door closed, I heard a strangled cry of, "Jesus!" followed by a squeal of, "You two are _fucking adorable_!"

I shook my head, a smile tugging at my lips, and walked into the general direction of my house.

* * *

I have no idea how a teenaged boy's mind works. I hope I was close enough. Probably not. NOOOW click the review button, pretty pretty please!


	9. The Obligatory BigBrotherFigure Speech

This was two shorter chapters... but they were too short, so I put them together. I used the word "Cartman" sooo many times.  
I used the f-word. I'm such a bad person. Not "fuck." I say "fuck" all the time. The f-word... oh, well. Cartman gets beaten up, so it's all good. Poll: How many of you actually read my author's notes?  


* * *

"Hey, guys."

"Hey, Kenny."

It was Monday morning, and, like always, I had trudged to the bus stop with my fifty-pound bag slung over my shoulder. I took my usual spot beside Cartman at the bus stop and stared dreamily off into space, preoccupied with my own thoughts nearly incomprehensible.

Cartman was snapping his fat fingers in front of my face, "Ay! Kenny, you poor asshole! What's your deal?"

"None of your business, asswipe," I said, shaking myself out of my stupor stepping away from Cartman.

"Whatever, fag," Cartman scoffed.

And, with that, my fist was slamming into Cartman's fat face and Cartman was on the ground, sobbing and spewing obscenities. I ran forward to attack and Kyle and Stan dragged me away from the fatass. "Fuck you, you fat son-of-a-whore!" I shouted. I would have killed him right there if Stan and Kyle weren't holding me back.

"Dude! Kenny! What the fuck?" Stan shouted.

"Calm down, man!" Kyle chimed in.

The two managed to pull me away from the fat lump of lard on the ground. The bus pulled up to the stop, and I turned to climb on board, ignoring the confused looks from the other guys.

"It's _fine_, Tweek! You should get a puppy," a high, familiar voice squeaked. I turned onto the bus and saw Tweek holding onto his cousin's hand by her wrist and obsessively examining her palm. She was wearing a blue-and-white letterman jacket with a large white C on the front. Tweek was in his usual incorrectly-buttoned button-down.

"Stop changing the subject! You're bleeding!"

"Not anymore. Hey, Kenny!" Kendra squealed when she saw me. She looked from me to Tweek, whose face was bright red, then got up and moved to another seat. The back of her letterman jacket read "Cohasset Drama" in large, white block letters. "Nice chullo!" I heard her squeal as she sat down elsewhere.

I sat down in the recently vacated seat next to Tweek. Cartman was standing in front of me, fixing me with a death glare. "What the _fuck_, Kenny?"

"What do you want, fatass?" I looked up at Cartman, my expression utterly bored.

"You go totally apeshit on me for no reason, and then you ditch us for this twitchy little psycho freak kid?"

I looked over at Tweek, who was gulping down coffee out of his travel mug, his eyes wide and his whole body shaking nervously, "Yeah, pretty much," I stated simply. I saw Tweek smile out of the corner of my eye.

"Stop being such a fucking butthole, Kenny!"

A groan sounded from somewhere towards the back of the bus, "Sit down and take a Midol, fatass."

Cartman blanched, looking around the bus for the source of the voice, "Shut up, new kid! No one was fucking talking to you!" He sat down in the nearest seat, mumbling something about hippies, and turned to face the front of the bus just as it started moving.

I rolled my eyes, turning back to Tweek and leaving all of Cartman's drama behind me. Something was different about him. He looked… different. Cuter, somehow. "Did you brush your hair?"

"Oh, um… y-yeah," he stammered, blushing softly. Christ, that kid is adorable.

"Is that… mascara?" I leaned forward, squinting at the black patent coating Tweek's eyelashes.

Tweek shrank back into his seat, clutching his travel mug in front of his face, which was turning bright pink. "It wasn't my idea!" he squeaked.

"Kendra?" I asked. He nodded. I laughed. He laughed with me, his blush fading. I leaned forward so my face was inches from his, and whispered, "I think you look cute." I stole a swift kiss before pulling back and looking around to make sure that no one noticed. Luckily, Cartman and the other guys were facing the other way, all wrapped up in their own conversation.

A contented smile traced over his lips and Tweek's face flushed bright pink again as he leaned back into his seat, still quivering ever-so-slightly.

The bus pulled up in front of the school. I stood and looked over at Tweek, who was still sitting. "You coming, dude?"

"I-I've gotta show Kendra a-around the school," Tweek stuttered.

I nodded, "Okay… see you around." He nodded back, and I headed off to catch up with the other guys.

"He liked the mascara," a tiny voice behind me squeaked.

"You're such a chick."

"It was your idea!"

"Tweek, you're blushing. And you _asked_ for a makeover."

"I – you… shut up."

* * *

"The school's coffee tastes like monkey butt," Kendra mused, holding a Styrofoam cup up to her face. "Tweek, I swear, if you end up pullin' out your hair, I'm gonna make you eat it."

Tweek and Kendra were sitting on one of the large concrete window sills in the bottom-floor hallway. It was break – the ten minutes after first period that the school allowed students for social interactions and eating breakfast if we missed it. The girl's voice really carried. I was passing through the parallel hallway and could hear pretty much everything she was saying;"I _mad_ have to piss. See ya later, Tweek-en-ator. I am _so _calling you that from now on!"

There was a loud clanking of heavy boots and Kendra walked into the hall in front of me. She made a beeline for where I was standing and locked her eyes onto mine, a glare set on her face. "Ay, McCormick," she growled, her voice low.

She slammed me into the locker behind me and held a strong fist to my chest. "Um… hey, Kenny," I said, a perplexed, awkward grin on my face.

The glare remained plastered on her face, "Look, McCormick, Tweek likes you. Like, a lot. And I've _never_ seen him like someone before. It's adorable. He asked me for advice on boys yesterday."

"I like him, too," I said. The words came out of my mouth before I had a chance to think about them. Luckily, there wasn't anyone in the hall to overhear. I did like him; I just didn't want anyone to know, yet.

"I've heard that you're a player. Just so ya know, if you break Tweek's heart, I'll break you. I know how to kill you and make it look like an accident… or a suicide. And I can make _sure_ your body is never found. _Don't cross me, McCormick_," Kendra snarled, a menacing glare fixed on her face. She turned and sauntered off, her heavy boots clanking loudly on the tiled floor.

I stood there for a second, perplexed. "What the _fuck_?"

* * *

I wanted to call this chapter "Kenny Swallows a Thesaurus" 'cause, well, I type like I swallowed a thesaurus. Srsly. That's how I'm in honor's English. Also, I'm a total smartass... and I'm always right. So ha.  
My house burnt down. Your reviews will be the bright spot in my suck-ass life.  
From now on, anyone who uses a hate word in any sort of writing I do will be punched in the face. It'll be fun. REVIEW, POR FAVOR!


	10. Free Booze and Snacks

Sooooo... Wow. This took tooooo long. And it's SHORT. Like, super-short. Shorter than Charlie Sheen's penis. {Crickets}  
BTW... I just wrote this right now. Sorry, I haven't been writing much since the fire. Kinda depressed. Yadda Yadda. I don't deal with emotion like normal people do, though. Depression makes me hyper. My goth GBF told me that I should take downers instead of drinking so much coffee. I'mma have to disagree.  
ENJOY THE SUPER-SHORT CHAPTER OF HALF-ASSEDNESS. I'll post more soon, I pwomise!

* * *

Wherever Tweek was, Kendra, without a doubt, was nearby. Without fail, every time I tried to talk to the kid, his cousin would come out of the woodwork with some vague comment or complaint that would send Tweek into what may be classified as a mild nervous breakdown. More than once she was bleeding, which didn't seem to concern her as much as it did Tweek. Eventually, I gave up all together.

"What if…" The girl posited, tapping her chin pensively, "I had, like, that kid's hair – "

"Which kid?"

"That one," she pointed. "Blondie."

"That's Butters."

"Butters… that's a silly name. Okay, what if I had Butters's hair… only _pink?_" Kendra held her hands out with a flourish to emphasize the brilliance of her master plan for awesome hair.

Tweek was not amused. He blinked slowly, shaking his head at his cousin, unfathomable confusion etched onto his face.

"Eh, space case!" Cartman snapped his fat fingers in front of my face – a practice I really wish he'd quit. It had been a couple days since I had punched him in the face, and Cartman had already recovered his full capacity for douchebaggary. I snapped back to reality and glared at the fatass, "What's up your butt, man? What, do you have a thing for the new girl, or something?"

My nostrils flared automatically. "No, Cartman, I have a thing for your mother. Who I had _sex_ with. Last night. In your room. On your bed. It was _awesome_. Put that image into your head and be traumatized by it." That shut him up for the time being. The other guys laughed at Cartman's mental trauma and I proceeded to space out once more.

"Hey, space-case!" A friendlier voice chirped. A flier that said "PARTY" in large rainbow letters was being dangled in front of my face. "Party at my place," the voice chirped again, "There'll be booze and free food. Also, have a designated driver if you plan on drinking. I don't want any deaths on my head."

I looked critically up at the cheery figure holding up the flier, "Don't you live at Tweek's house, or something?"

"Nah, that was only temporary. I live with my dad, now. Long story. Address is on the flier. See y'all Saturday!" Kendra was quickly replaced with a neat stack of fliers that read; "PARTY! Saturday, 814 main st. Show up when you show up, no earlier than eight. There'll be booze and free food! Please have a designated drive; I don't want your death on my head."

"You going?" Kyle asked, peering over my shoulder at the fliers.

I shrugged, "Why not? There's free food."

"And free booze," Stan added.

"Sweet," Cartman mused.

* * *

Yup. There ya go. Short and sweet. Congratulations, you sat through ten chapters of this! I hope you're not _too_ dead by now!  
Review review review! PLEASIES!


	11. Spin the Bottle

First thing's first: I do not, in any way, condone teen drinking. But, it does make for a fun plot device, if you cold call it that. Or, ya know, just an excuse to have some happy fun yaoi time.  
Side notes: the song playing is Johanna, from Sweeney Todd. I dunno why I put that in, I just kinda thought it'd be fun. Uhhh... I refuse to acknowledge Pip's death. Also, there's some suggested Dip in there, 'cause, really, what's a party without Dip? Yeah. I'm weird.  
Soo. Yeah. Oh, by the way, I don;t own South Park. Just in case y'all were at all confused.

* * *

814 Main Street was directly across the street from Tweek's house. The downstairs windows were brightly lit and generic rock music blasted audibly from inside. Around eight o'clock Saturday night, I punched my thumb into the doorbell and waited a few seconds to be greeted by an overly-cheery squeak of, "Hey! I _just_ finished drunk-proofing the house!" Kendra kept talking as I was gestured to enter the house. "Everything that can be broken, huffed, used as a weapon, or stolen is locked in the high cabinets with childproof locks. Am I forgetting anything? I'm even wearing studs so my lip rings won't get caught on anything or pulled, 'cause that freaking _hurts_…"

As Kendra continued to chatter on about her successful drunk-proofing endeavors, I surveyed the room. Craig, Clyde, Pip, Damien, Butters, and Tweek were standing in the living room which was bare save for a couch pushed up against the wall. They all clutched red plastic cups in their hands, but no one appeared to have drunk very much. Kendra collapsed onto the couch, ending her speech with, "there's a keg and assorted other alcohol in the kitchen. There should be some girls showing up eventually; that'll be fun… I guess…" She shrugged, then busied herself fiddling with a lip ring and chewing on a lock of hair.

I caught Tweek's eye briefly before making my way to the kitchen. Surely enough, there were childproof locks on all of the cabinets, a keg in the middle of the floor, and several bottles of beer and assorted snacks laid out on the table. On the counter were four pots of coffee, labeled "IRISH," "IRISH DECAF," "REGULAR," and "DECAF (you pussy)." The lettering was all done in obnoxiously bright rainbow colors and impossibly neat handwriting. Beside the coffee were several bottles of cream, with the same clear labels reading "ACHOLHOLIC" and "NON-ALCHOHOLIC." I picked up a bottle of beer off the table and took a large gulp of it.

"Hey," a small voice squeaked from the doorway. Tweek made his way over to the counter and refilled his cup from the coffee pot labeled "IRISH." He looked utterly exhausted. "It's like having a puppy… a puppy that never shuts up." He ran a hand through his already-messy hair.

I glanced at the empty doorway and draped an arm over the twitching blonde's shoulder, whose face immediately resolved into a soft smile.

* * *

By ten at night, most of South Park High's students were drunk out of their minds. One of the girls jumped onto the couch, beer bottle in hand, and shouted "Spin the bottle!" as if she had just discovered a cure for cancer. I watched from the kitchen with Stan and Kyle as a group of wasted teenagers all gathered in a horribly misshapen circle on the floor, giggling moronically.

I surveyed the snack table. Cartman, who had left to play Spin the Bottle, had already conducted his own raid, leaving few survivors. I popped one of the few remaining Cheesy Poofs into my mouth and chewed on it slowly, staring up at the ceiling, and then finished off what was probably my fifth beer.

Loud cheering rose from the mob in the living room, followed by roaring applause. Kendra soon burst into the kitchen, looked over at Stan, and chewed on her lips as if in deep thought, "You're Stan, right?" she asked. Stan nodded. "You're dating, um… Wendy, her name is? The hot one? Long black hair, cute little beret?" He nodded again. "Oh. I just made out with your girlfriend."

Kyle and I proceeded to laugh our asses off at the flustered look on Stan's face as Kendra crossed over to the refrigerator and grabbed a soda. "And the Canadian kid," she added after a moment of thought.

Kyle looked mortified, "Dude! He's eleven!"

"Wait, what?" Kendra cocked an eyebrow, "But, he's a freshman… and _completely_ shitfaced. Who brought an eleven-year-old? Why is he in high school? Of course, some of the stuff I'm doing now, I did Freshman year at my old school… so it ain't all that impressive…" she paused briefly, "Spin the Bottle, man… it's a hell of a game. Y'all should join… or, ya know… something negative. Communism. Yup." She nodded sagely, and then grabbed both me and Stan by the wrist and dragged the two of use into the living room.

She deposited the two of us into the circle of drunken teens on the floor. "You two have fun now. I'm gonna go vomit; I get nauseas when I get hungry. Let the shenanigans and malarkey commence!" she turned on her heel and trotted up the stairs.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kyle drag his brother away from the circle and lecture him about drinking. Cartman, presumably kicked out of the game for being an unattractive fatass, slunk into the kitchen to begin his final assault on the snack table. Music blared from a pair of wall-mounted speakers. Stan was staring blankly at Wendy, who was now collapsed into a giggling heap on Bebe's lap.

A group of shitfaced teenagers was goading me into spinning an empty bottle of Bailey's so that I would make out with one of them. I gave in and gave the bottle a good spin.

As the bottle began to slow down, a bunch of giggling girls opposite me bunched together so that there was a large gap in the other end of the circle. And, in the middle of the gap, sat a feeble little blonde, whose drunken grin slowly faded into a mortified stare as the bottle slowed to a stop, pointing to an empty spot about a foot to his left.

A voice sang from the speakers on the wall; '_I feel you, Johanna…_'

Girls giggled. Guys whooped. Several people were collapsed onto the floor, laughing their asses off.

Tweek and I inched toward the center of the circle. I rolled my eyes pointedly at the crowd. Tweek seemed hell-bent on pulling large chunks of his hair right out of his head. But, as he got closer, he seemed to relax, going as far as to take his hand away from his hair.

'_I feel you… do they think that walls can hide you? Even now, I'm at your window…_'

I leaned in towards Tweek. I mentally willed him to act like he didn't want to be there, to not look so relaxed, so that maybe people wouldn't know… wouldn't know what, exactly? That we were kinda-sorta but not really dating? That we'd made out before?

The last two weeks have been so. Fucking. Confusing.

I leaned down and scooped the twitchy little blonde's lips up with my own. Eagerly, he kissed me back, pushing me back into a sitting position and tangling his fingers in my hair.

'_I am in the dark beside you… buried sweetly in your yellow hair, Johanna…_'

The second I'd pulled away, Tweek had attached himself to my lips once more. Girls oooohed. Guys laughed. A completely hammered Pip rose momentarily from his perch on Damien's lap to let out a hearty cheer before being caught around the waist and pulled back down. A call of "Fags!" from Cartman. A squeak of "fucking adorable!" from Kendra. The sounds of Wendy trying to talk Bebe out of her clothes.

I blocked it out, reducing all of the activity in the room to just myself and Tweek. His lips against mine. His hands in my hair. My arms around him.

It all felt so. Fucking. Right.

* * *

Did ya like it? I dunno if I wanna end on that note, but I don't know what should happen next: Happy fun hangover time?  
Oooh, also, I apologise for singling you out, lololol, but, for some reason, I can't reply to your review directly. I appreciate your input: and now, I shall explain my odd habit (which I have also noticed) of replacing "ed" with "t".  
When I first start writing a piece, I spell everything just the way I pronounce it. Then, I go through and fix everything. I guess I just leave stuff behind or something. Thanks for pointing that out; I'll look more carefully, now.  
Also, I love all of you! Srsly.  
To those of you who read this, liked it, and reviewed: Your reviews make me dance a little happy jig. I lovee youu!  
To those of you who read this, liked it, and did not review: I received your telepathic happy messages. They made me dance a little happy jig. Love you!  
To those of you who read this, hated it, and did not review: Thank you for not killing my happy jig with your negativity! Keep up the silence! love ya!  
Okay. I'm full of love.


End file.
